


As Expected

by exarite



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Dreams and Nightmares, M/M, Monsters, Season/Series 01, Will Graham Has Encephalitis, Will has sexy wet dreams featuring the stag man and vore, but no actual vore, monster fucking, vore ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 06:34:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18632758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exarite/pseuds/exarite
Summary: Will dreams of the Stag Man.He wakes up hard.





	As Expected

The monster was back.

He knew it. He could hear it. The scratch and clack of sharp nails, raking through his wooden floors. The sound of its breathing, heavy and hard, wet almost as if there was water in its lungs. It matched his own harsh pants in the night air.

When he closed his eyes and inhaled, he could almost _smell_ it. It had the scent of disturbed earth, of copper, metallic and sharp. The scent of old blood. It pervaded his senses, each ragged inhale in an effort to calm himself only worsening his fear, his heartbeat rabbit quick and threatening to burst out of his chest in a sea of red and gore.

He wondered if it could smell him, if it could smell the acrid tang of his sweat laced with his fear, gathering on his back, his chest, his whole body drenched with it. A delicious, neurotic powder keg, practically monster bait. Easy taking.

He buried his head underneath his covers and shuddered. He kept his eyes closed and focused on the familiar snuffle and shift of his dogs, just feet away, all of them sleeping undisturbed and unknowing of the monster in their midst.

Even as he started to drift off into an uneasy, restless sleep, Will couldn't shake off the unnerving feeling that there was something in his room, in the corner, in the darkest part where his eyes refused to linger.

Just standing there, a guardian of the night. A creature of bone and antlers, gaunt and sharp, watching him. Waiting.

For what, Will didn't quite know.

His breathing slowly evened out, ragged and rough. He was fearful and anxious still, but he knew that while this monster was with him, no others could come. It wouldn't let anyone or _anything_ else have him. He was its, and its alone.

This was a monster he knew. He knew it like one knew a lover. Intimately, and with the visceral, bone-deep urge to know it even more. It was greedy, possessive, and it had stalked Will's nights, pervaded his dreams, made a space for itself in the jagged confines of Will's ribs. It had settled into the darkest parts of his mind, carved out a place for itself and made its home there.

Will could barely remember a time it hadn't been there. It had come in the wake of the Minnesota Shrike, his waking days rife with nightmares, a souvenir that had followed him home.

He was an adult now. He was far too old too still be worrying still about monsters in the dark when Will knew very well of the monsters that humans could be.

He worried anyway. He let his mind dwell and soak in it until he thought of nothing else.

*

He couldn't move.

Will's eyes were open and yet he saw nothing, only the pitch black of the deep night, endless, no horizon in sight.

He saw nothing, and yet he felt.

Warm breath fanned over his neck, the skim of teeth a threat over his jugular. Something warm and sticky dripped and pooled over the cup of his collarbones.

_He couldn't move._

He writhed in place, desperate and afraid, but a sea of antlers pinned him down, unrelenting and firm. Bony fingers and sharp nails took advantage, and he felt them trace the paths of his arteries and his veins, a red line of fine blood left in their wake. Their touch felt worshipful even as they made him bleed.

He was marked. Owned.

The darkness let up, and Will could see now. Bony arms, blacker than night and cold as ice, wrapped around him in a deceptively sweet embrace.

He stopped trying to escape. He knew he couldn’t.

He woke up with a cry caught in his throat, nauseating fear thick in his chest. The hair on his arms was standing up, goosebumps pimpling his skin. He was freezing, the thin blanket on him pushed to the side, his pants steaming in the night air.

And, Will realized, he was achingly, desperately hard.

*

“Tell me about your dreams,” Doctor Lecter said.

Will exhaled, harsh and frustrated. He ran his hand over his face and shook his head. He tried to gather his thoughts, but they slipped from his grasp like water in a stream or a particularly feisty fish.

“They’re familiar by now,” he finally said. “Like an old friend.”

“And like an old friend, did you greet it warmly as you do?”

“I don’t think I greet anyone warmly,” Will said, darkly amused despite himself. Hannibal smiled at him, his lips thin, and Will’s amusement was reflected in his dark eyes.

“I would like to disagree. You greet me warmly enough.”

 _You’re different_ , Will wanted to argue. _You’re not the same._

He said nothing, only bared his teeth in what could barely be called a smile.

*

He dreamt of his skin splitting underneath the monster’s tender, reverent touch, of its claws reaching deep into his guts, the parts of him no one else could ever reach. He dreamt of his skull being cracked open, of spindly fingers dipping into the mess of his brain. A gaping maw of sharp teeth and long tongue licked it clean, its noises of pleasure sharp and painfully loud to his human ears.

He dreamt of being devoured, first his organs and then his limbs, one by one until his entire body was settled in the monster’s belly, warm and wet with viscera and blood.

Safe. Right where he belonged.

"Delicious," the monster purred and licked its cold, black lips. _As expected_ , it didn't say, but Will heard it all the same.

When Will woke, his breathing was ragged, his length straining in his trousers.

He reached down and touched himself.

*

“I would like to have you for dinner, Will.”

“I told you, Doctor, I’m no good with crowds.”

“I imagine a crowd of only two people isn’t much of a crowd at all.”

Will stopped at that, his fingers pausing in its gentle exploration of Hannibal’s collection of books. He turned and peeked over the balcony, his eyebrows raised.

He said nothing, only wet his lips and regarded Hannibal warily. Things had been different between them recently, a charged tension to the way they moved around each other. What were supposed to be simple, brief touches to the arm, his forehead, his waist, weren't as simple as they used to be. Will was far from ignorant. He saw how Hannibal looked at him.

He didn’t think Hannibal to be the cruel kind and mock him with an offer of a date, but even now, Will couldn't understand how someone like Hannibal could find interest in someone like him.

"Just us two," he said, and Hannibal tilted his head in agreement. He had a strange smile on his face, private, and Will wanted to know what amused him so.

"A date," Will continued boldly, and yet it sounded like a question even to his own ears.

Hannibal's smile widened.

"If you'd like it to be."

Will bit down hard on his cheek until he tasted blood. _My monster wouldn't_ , he wanted to say. _It wants me for itself, Doctor Lecter. It doesn't want to share._

But sane, stable men didn't say things like that, so instead, Will said, "I would. Like it to be, I mean."

*

After dinner, as Will was helping clean up, Hannibal gently took him by the wrist, leaned in and kissed him.

Will kissed back. He wondered if he was imagining the sting of Hannibal's too sharp teeth. They both moaned as Will's blood welled up from his bottom lip, and Hannibal sucked it into his mouth, his lips warm and soft and human. Hannibal's grip tightened around his wrist, and for a moment, Will could feel the prick of sharpened claws against his pulse, beating faster and faster now in his anxiety.

He was still getting hard.

He wondered if he was losing his mind.

He let Hannibal guide him upstairs, dazed, their lips still pressed together as if they couldn't breathe without the other. They exchanged hungry kisses, Hannibal surprisingly greedy. Will reached up to run his hands through the back Hannibal's head, shuddering at the brief impression of antlers, bony and rough, right over Hannibal's scalp. He tightened his fingers and found only hair.

Hannibal's room was dark, and in his chest, Will's heart stuttered. It pounded against his ribs, frantic, and he wondered what would happen if it managed to escape. Would his monster still want to take it in its hands and take a bite from it? Or would it want his heart fresh and raw, still beating inside of him?

"Where are you going?" Hannibal murmured, pressing kisses down his neck. His teeth scraped over Will's jugular, a threat, and Will yearned for them to be sharper, just a little bit more. Hannibal bit down and Will groaned, tilting his head back and staring up at the ceiling.

He could see antlers again, growing over Hannibal's head, and when Hannibal took Will's hands in his and pressed it above him, Will felt inexplicably bound and trapped. He couldn't move, the sense memory of a sea of antlers enough to pin him in place. He couldn't move, not even if he wanted to. He didn't want to.

Hannibal pulled away, and his eyes were dark as night, a deep red that made Will's breath hitch in his throat.

"Stay with me, Will," Hannibal said, his voice gruff, so entirely unlike the uptight, elegant persona that Will knew him for.

"I am," Will breathed, his eyes tracing over Hannibal's features. They were pitch black and sharp, inhuman, so similar to his monster. He wasn't sure how much of it was because of the darkness in Hannibal's room, or just a product of his overactive, messy mind.

But Will blinked and they were gone, back to the familiar, fine, sharp-boned features. That elegant cut of his cheekbones, the fine lines near his eyes that betrayed his age. Will pulled him in to kiss him, their lips meeting in a slick slide of tongue and teeth. He didn't know if he was disappointed.

They stripped quickly.

Hannibal's bare skin against his was warm, his hand on Will's hip practically branding, and Will groaned pitifully at every touch. Every pass of Hannibal's hands over his sides, his ass, they were far too gentle, Hannibal a gentleman even in bed. It wasn't enough.

He needed…He needed more. Harder. Rougher.

"Come on," Will rasped, unable to bear it now as Hannibal started to prepare him, his fingers inside Will ever gentle still. Will was shaking apart at the seams, his very bones vibrating with his desperate need. "I can take it, Doctor Lecter."

"Doctor Lecter? Even here, Will?" Hannibal asked, voice low, and Will bared his teeth in a strained smile. He felt hot, feverish once more, and Will worried that he was sweating buckets into Hannibal's fine sheets. Hannibal didn't seem to care.

"Please," Will grit out. "Just fuck me already."

Hannibal rose, and Will noticed then the tight control he had over his muscles. Finely honed. He didn't have the body of a psychiatrist, impossibly fit, and Will wondered how he had time to work out. He didn't dwell on it for too long, Hannibal on top of him now, looming.

Hannibal pressed against him, his cock nudging against Will's slick hole. Will bore down, tilting his hips, his eyes slipping closed. He exhaled noisily as Hannibal finally pushed inside. Will wasn't prepared enough, and everything was red raw, the drag and push of Hannibal in his ass painful and so fucking good.

"Harder," Will begged anyway, lifting his leg to wrap it around Hannibal's waist, pressing the older man closer to him. He groaned as Hannibal slid in deeper, his cock nudging against Will's prostate, fucking him open.

Hannibal complied, ducking his head to mouth at the skin of Will's neck, and Will moaned. He reached up to thread his fingers through Hannibal's hair again, delirious now at the feel of rough antler velvet. He tightened his grip and pressed Hannibal to the juncture between his neck and his shoulder.

"Harder," he repeated, his voice cracking. "Bite me."

Hannibal's grip on his hips tightened, and Will imagined sharp claws raking down his sides, bleeding him dry. He groaned, his cock twitching in between them, and with one foot planted firmly on Hannibal's bed, he drove himself onto Hannibal's cock.

Hannibal bit him, his teeth bruising, but they didn't break the skin. It wasn't hard enough. Will needed more.

"Please," he hissed desperately, and his nails scratched down Hannibal's back, digging in at the small of his lower back and leaving a trail of red. He pushed Hannibal in him deeper, insistent, and Hannibal thankfully complied. "Again, harder."

Hannibal growled against his shoulder and just the sound of it made Will groan out loud, pleasure shaking down his spine, his toes curling, his jaw dropping open. _Monster_ , something in Will recognized.

Hannibal grabbed his thigh and raised it higher, pushing it up to his chest, and Will cried out at the change of angle. He felt so much more open, so raw. He wanted Hannibal to split him open, crack his ribs apart. He wanted those talented surgeon hands reaching inside of him.

He threw his head back and Hannibal bit down again, so much harder this time, exactly what Will needed. Those sharp teeth broke skin, drew blood, and Will moaned into the darkness, clutching him close.

He closed his eyes, imagined even sharper teeth, and he could feel it. The drag of his monster's mouth against his neck, warm and wet as it traced a path down the sides. His pulse raced as its teeth scraped against his jugular. It could tear through his neck right now, drain him of his blood and feast upon him, and Will…

Will _wanted_ it too.

Hannibal nipped at his jaw, driving into him hard and rough, and Will grit his teeth against the desires that threatened to bubble out of him. He clutched onto Hannibal, the force of Hannibal's hips slapping against his ass enough to push him up Hannibal's silk sheets. It was only Hannibal's grip on him, yanking him back, that kept him from hitting the headboard.

Hannibal pulled away, his teeth bared, and Will moaned at the sight of blood on his teeth.

Hannibal fucked into him, harder now, rougher, painful against his prostate and Will fucking loved it. They were panting, the sounds of Hannibal's cock slamming inside him vulgar and slick, obscene. Hannibal's grip on his thighs, his ass, his hips, was bruising, pinpricks of pain that only ramped up Will's pleasure. He wanted them to pull him apart, to break open his bones, to tear him apart limb from limb, all that restrained strength that Will could feel finally put into work.

Hannibal's eyes dropped to where they were joined, Will's rim most likely red and raw from the abuse. When he looked back up to meet Will's gaze, Will's stomach seized, his cock twitching, his balls drawing up.

He looked at Will as if he wanted to _devour_ him. As if Will was gourmet, high-class food, his dark eyes intent, a hint of danger in them. His hair fell into his eyes, no longer fixed into its prim state, and his canines peeked from behind his lips, bared in a snarl. Feral. Savage.

_Monstrous._

"Fuck," Will cursed. He clenched around Hannibal's thick cock, still relentlessly driving into him, and it was painful now, but still so fucking good. His back arched against Hannibal's bed, his mouth falling open in a strangled scream, and Hannibal fucked him harder, deeper, leaning in to cover Will's body with his own and—

He bit down again on Will's shoulder, hard enough that Will yelled out, kicking frantically, but his balls tightened and he was coming. He splattered in between their stomachs, slick and sticky, and Hannibal groaned against his mouthful.

Will shuddered, shaking in his grip, and Hannibal pulled him back onto his cock, fucking him into his silk sheets once, twice, until he grunted and emptied into Will.

They held onto each other, both of them panting. Will's hands flexed and relaxed against Hannibal's sides, his eyes half-lidded. He tipped his head back against Hannibal's sinfully soft pillows, viscerally satisfied at the pull and ache of his shoulder, his neck raw and painful from Hannibal's harsh bites.

"That wasn't what I had intended," Hannibal finally said, breaking the silence. His voice was a husky rasp, and Will's cock twitched in a valiant effort to harden once more.

"It's what I wanted," Will replied. Except it wasn't, not really. Close enough. Almost.

Hannibal pulled away and smiled at him. "Not a fragile teacup after all," he said, and Will huffed in laughter.

Hannibal slid his hand in between them, his fingers dipping into the come on Will's belly. And Will watched, his face and chest hot, as Hannibal licked at his fingers. His eyes were dark, narrowed into slits, and his hum of pleasure made Will's stomach clench in desire.

"Delicious," Hannibal said. _As expected_ , he didn't say, but Will heard it anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> hm. my first hannibal fic. i feel like i'm not quite getting Season 1 Will right 🤔
> 
> i'm exarite on tumblr ❤️


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